


Speak to me only with your eyes

by Addie_D_123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean singing, Fluff, Frottage, Led Zeppelin - Freeform, M/M, Marking, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Addie_D_123/pseuds/Addie_D_123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is jealous and marks Dean as his own. Dean tries to show Sam what he really means to him, in song.<br/>Liberal use of Led Zeppelin lyrics.</p><p>(Sam is 14 - Dean, 18)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak to me only with your eyes

"Her name is Clementine?"

"Yup."

"Seriously?" Sam pauses, butter knife frozen mid spread on his toast. He looks over his shoulder to catch his brother’s grin.

"I wouldn’t kid about a thing like that, Sam."

"Huh." Sam forces his head to turn away, his hand to move. The butter melts from pale yellow to milky white and he focuses on that and not the tightening in his chest.

"Yup. And I sing her that song sometimes. You know, _'Oh, my darlin’, oh, my darlin’, oh, my daaaaarlin’_ '-"

"Shut up, no you don’t."

"Sure I do. Girls love it when you say their name. Don’t they…Sammy," Dean teases.

Sam brings the toast to his mouth, rips off a big bite and chews on the thought for a moment. Dry and gritty, he takes a deep breath through his nose and a moment of concentration to swallow.

"Then I feel sorry for her."

Dean chuckles, soft and low, and Sam grips the edge of the counter white-knuckled with his free hand, his other holding his ignored breakfast inches from his mouth. Dean steps up close behind, crowds him against the cabinets and snakes his neck around Sam’s shoulder to bite into his toast.

When Sam speaks, his shivers weaken the words to a whisper. "What song would you sing for me?"

Dean sputters mid swallow, almost choking. Recovers quickly with his trademark smirk that Sam is gonna wipe right off his face. "Wha-"

Sam grabs at his brother, butter slicking his fingers and bread mashed against Dean’s shirt. With two fistfuls, he swings him around and slams him into the counter. The wooden cabinets below shudder with the impact. Dean only gapes at him in response, so he pulls him forward and slams him back again and again until the cabinet doors bounce on their hinges and Dean is the one who’s pinned.

"What! Sam?" Dean’s eyes are unreadable. Stormy with flashes of anger like lightning and an undercurrent of something darker, but still electric. He struggles for a moment but Sam presses in closer, and he freezes.

Dean is the rabbit and Sam is the fox.

"Dean, you are such an asshole! Do you even know, you stupid dick?"

Dean’s mouth hangs open.

Sam shakes with fury. He wants to punch his brother’s face bloody and climb him like a tree, but he’s all clumsy hands and running mouth. So he wraps his arms around his neck and drags him down until he can press his face into the side of his throat. Dean won’t move, can’t move, so Sam opens his lips and reaches out with his tongue. Just a taste.

"Sam. Sammy?" Dean sounds scared now, panicked. His pulse trips over Sam’s tongue as he licks him again. Sam grins, presses his teeth against the wet skin and forms words slippery and soft. "You know. I know you know. You have to."

Sam pulls his face back but Dean won’t look at him. Won’t meet his eyes and in that moment Sam knows he’s right.

"Huh. So I guess you’re not as stupid as you look."

And Dean doesn’t have a chance to respond before Sam strikes. He pins his wrists behind him and latches his mouth onto Dean’s neck like a vampire, biting and sucking, and he’s burning up inside like a system overload and Dean knows.

He knows.

"W-wait."

Sam tastes something vaguely metallic but it only makes him suck harder, bite deeper, until Dean writhes under his mouth, whimpering, gasping. He makes desperate noises like Sam’s never heard come from his brother’s mouth. And he’s making them for him.

Sam only snaps back to himself when he feels something hot and hard dig into his hip and he jolts. Throws himself backwards like he was the one who was just bitten and when Dean scrubs a hand over his eyes, it comes away wet. His face is red and his chest heaves. Dean is terrified.

"What the fuck, Sam?"

The black cloud of guilt tries to swallow him up but he won’t let it. It’s happening. He’s in it now. It happened and he won’t take it back. Not ever.

"Enjoy the movie with _Clementine_." He spits her name out like a curse and it takes everything in him to keep his sneer from turning into a sob.

No one moves.

It feels like an eternity until Dean breaks the spell to peel the remnants of Sam’s breakfast from the front of his shirt. He doesn’t speak to him then or when he stomps down the stairs after changing or when he slams the front door on his way out.

It’s only then that Sam lets himself cry.

Dean comes back almost six hours later. The sun is still shining and the world somehow didn’t come crashing down around him when Dean walked out the door. So Sam guesses that’s something.

"You here?"

Suddenly a coward, Sam says nothing. He’s at the tiny kitchen table, staring down at his algebra homework but not seeing it. He’ll never let Dean know that it took everything in him just to get his legs to move the few steps to the chair.

"Sam?" Dean stands in the doorway now, watches him.

Sam croaks out a word. "Hey."

Dean makes his way over to the fridge, grabs a beer and cracks it open on the edge of the table. Needing something to do with his hands.

"Never made it to the movie."

"Oh?" Sam holds his breath, tries to sound disinterested.

"Yeah. Clementine was pretty upset about the whole 'other woman' thing."

Sam’s head pops up then, scowls to hide his confusion. And he sees that Dean is smiling.

"Yeah, you know. She saw the hickey. Said she wasn’t interested in sharing."

Sam’s eyes fly to the spot. Dark purple with red splotches right under his left ear. One place where he thinks he may have broke the skin. Abused and bruised and perfect.

"Yeah, well, neither am I." Sam glares back down at his homework. He’s embarrassed at how true that statement is. He’s pink with it.

"Well, Sammy, I guess that would make you the other woman, huh?"

Sam feels another twinge of guilt. He’s the one who wanted and took. Dean is the one to offer a truce. This is him taking care of Sam.

And Sam still wants.

"You’re such a jerk."

There’s power in the words. Dean laughs so loud Sam jumps and slams his book shut in an effort to recuperate.

"Yeah. I know."

Somber now, Dean takes a step closer. Reaches out and runs a hand through Sam’s hair, pushes it away from his face, mouth drawn up in consideration.

Sam directs his glare upwards. "You didn’t go to the movie. Great. So where the hell were you all day?"

“Thinking."

"At a bar?"

"Maybe."

Sam ducks out from under his hand, walks over to the fridge, grabs a beer and ignores Dean’s raised eyebrow. He tries to look casual, leans against the counter with the unopened beer resting on his thigh. He fails.

"Thinking about what?"

"Your question from before."

Dean crosses the small kitchen and grabs the beer. Cracks it open for him before handing it back, but doesn’t move away. Dean stays close.

"I think I got an answer for you."

"Yeah?" Sam brings the beer bottle to his forehead and rolls the condensation across it. He’s just so warm all of a sudden.

"The Rain Song. Zeppelin, of course."

Dean tilts his head to the side, moves slow. Leans over Sam’s shoulder and puts his lips so close to his ear Sam thinks he’s going to tell him a secret.

Sam brings the bottle up and presses it to the other side of his face. His cheek red hot and his hand shaking.

" _This is the springtime of my loving ... the second season I am to know. You are the sunlight in my growing ... so little warmth I’ve felt before. It isn’t hard to feel me glowing ... I watched the fire that grew so low..._ " Dean sings to him, soft and low. He’s serious, genuine, and so vulnerable that it hurts. Sam can only be so still and hope the moment doesn’t pass.

" _It is the summer of my smiles ... flee from me keepers of the gloom. Speak to me only with your eyes. It is to you I give this tune. Ain’t so hard to recognize ... These things are clear to all from time to time..._ "

Dean’s breath is warm and soft on the side of his neck.

Sam feels Dean’s pull, drawn together like magnets. He tries to get closer. Static electricity before the storm. The beer bottle slips from his fingers and hits the floor but neither of them even flinch. Sam puts his hand on his brother’s hip. Dean stutters a breath.

" _I’ve felt the coldness of my winter. I never thought it would ever go. I cursed the gloom that set upon us ... But I know that I love you so ... but I know that I love you so..._ "

Every part of Dean is pressed against every part of Sam. The counter bites painfully into Sam’s back as Dean rocks against him to the music in his head. It’s a slow and sinful grind. Sam can barely breathe but as long as he can feel this he doesn’t think he ever needs to breathe again.

" _These are the seasons of emotion and like the winds they rise and fall. This is the wonder of devotion ... I see the torch we all must hold.._."

And when his voice breaks on the word 'devotion', Sam grabs Dean’s hand with his. Squeezes it when Dean rolls his hips forward, and he can feel he’s just as hard as Sam. Harder.

" _This is the mystery of the quotient. Upon us all a little rain must fall._ "

No more words, just the sound of their panted breaths and hearts beating in unison. Still pressed close, thighs woven together. Dean doesn’t pull away, not at first. Sam’s right hand on his hip and his left with fingers tangled up in Dean’s. It looks like they’re dancing. And maybe they are.

"So, whatcha think, Sam?"

Sam blinks. Feels a tear roll down his face and drop onto Dean’s chest. "It’s ...uh... good."

Dean huffs a laugh, hot breath on his neck before pressing his mouth there. Just a brief touch of soft lips on tender flesh, and then he takes a step back. Wipes a thumb across the tear tracks on Sam’s face with one hand, his other hand still holding his brother’s.

Dean looks down, a spot of pink on each cheek. "Yeah, so... That’s the song I’d sing for you."

Dean looks up. Swallows once. Twice. "And I mean it, Sam... okay?"

Sam nods quickly. And when he smiles, Dean smiles back. Relieved.

"So."

"So."

Dean gives his head a little shake like he’s waking up. Sam’s skin buzzes.

"Whadduya say, Sammy? Godzilla marathon on TV tonight. Pizza and illegally acquired beer?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Dean finally lets go of Sam’s hand to reach for the phone.

Pizza delivery and bare feet on the couch. All night all alone with Dean. Sounds more like a dream.

Dean cradles the phone on his shoulder, waiting while the line rings. Plays casual but his hands are still shaking.

And Sam knows.

"Hey, Sam? Remind me to play that song for you sometime. You know, if you wanna hear it."

"Yeah. Sure."

Sam smiles and Dean lights up, starts naming off toppings to the voice over the phone. He makes sure to add extra onions just like Sam hates, smirking. Sam punches his shoulder and makes his way into the living room on wobbling legs, weak-kneed, while deep breaths fight against the butterfly wings beating against his ribcage. Collapses onto the couch and turns on the TV. Tries to remember if he’s ever heard the Zeppelin song before, but he knows it doesn’t matter.

He’s already heard the best version of it that there ever was.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you've never heard this song before, go listen to it. It's sexy and lovely and perfect. Go...now. ;)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S4v-_p5dU34
> 
> Illustration by the hella talented [hellhoundsprey ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/pseuds/hellhoundsprey)


End file.
